Nostalgic
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Gokudera has a penchant for reminiscing." Gokudera and Yamamoto get nostalgic about the past together.


Gokudera has a penchant for reminiscing.

Yamamoto doesn't mind. As far as he's concerned anything that makes Gokudera smile is worthwhile, whether it's watching the bad sci-fi movies the other likes or fumbling through terrible joint attempts at pancakes on the weekends or lingering awake longer than they should, taking turns distracting the other from sleep with glancing kisses at shoulders, jawlines, wrists. Tonight this last has taken on more structure than it sometimes does, with Gokudera lingering at Yamamoto's shoulder to kiss down along the line of his back; Yamamoto is going drowsy with the easy pleasure of it, drifting towards the hazy edge of sleep when Gokudera goes still, turns his head to rest against Yamamoto's hip and reaches out to curl his fingers around the other's wrist. His touch is warm, the texture of his fingers no less pleasant for being endlessly familiar, and his silence says he's thinking about something worth staying awake for.

"Do you remember those wristbands we used to wear?" is what it finally turns out to be. "The ones we would share back and forth when we were in school?"

Yamamoto smiles at the wall without twisting around to look at Gokudera's face. "Of course." The other's hand is warmer on his skin than the wristbands ever were, easy affection impossible to have imagined back then. "I loved when you let me wear yours."

"I was so scared that first time, when you were going to fight that stupid shark," Gokudera says, his fingers tightening briefly as if with the memory of past fright. "I thought you were going to die."

"I knew I wasn't." Yamamoto turns his hand to twine his fingers in against Gokudera's, tugs gently to urge the other back up. Gokudera comes, pausing only to press his mouth to the line of Yamamoto's shoulder before he falls onto the sheets alongside the other, rolling over so he can lie on his back and blink up at Yamamoto's face. The green of his eyes is as bright as it has always been, the lines at his mouth making the shape of an easy smile, now, instead of the frown that used to be so permanent. Yamamoto watches that curve, unconsciously echoing the expression as he speaks. "I needed to come back out to you."

"I don't know why you _wanted_ to come back out," Gokudera admits. His smile is going wider, sharper at the edges so it catches teasing-bright in his eyes. "I was such a fucking little shit back then."

Yamamoto shakes his head in wordless disagreement. "I love you," he says, offering the words as simply as he always has. "I always have. I did then, too."

"I know you did," Gokudera says. He rolls onto his side, reaches out to drape his arm across the dip of Yamamoto's back and fit his leg around the other's hip. "I just don't know _why_. I was right about you being an idiot, at least."

"Mm," Yamamoto purrs, responding to the soft in Gokudera's tone, the familiarity of the insult worn smooth and yielding until it has the shape of an inside joke more than anything else. "It paid off, in the end."

"You were stupidly persistent," Gokudera says, turning his head up in unspoken invitation until Yamamoto leans down to press a kiss to the give of his mouth. Gokudera's eyes are shut when he pulls back, his lips curving wider on a smile like he's seeing the past behind his eyelids. "And I was so _mean_ to you." He ducks in, bumps his forehead against Yamamoto's arm in unspoken apology as he laughs again, the sound going warm and amused on Yamamoto's bare skin. "I had nothing but insults for you all day but I was totally desperate for your attention. Do you _know_ how many times I jerked off thinking about you?"

Yamamoto smiles. "I have an idea," he offers, his voice dropping low with the memory of dozens of fantasies of silver hair and delicate wrists. Gokudera laughs, reaches up to draw Yamamoto down for a proper kiss made out of heat and unhurried thoroughness, and for a few minutes Yamamoto is too lost in the present to think about the past.

He doesn't open his eyes when Gokudera lets him go, just slides down an inch so he can fit himself against the line of Gokudera's collarbones, can press his lips to the steady rhythm of heartbeat against Gokudera's chest. The arm around his waist draws tighter, pressing him closer, and Yamamoto loops his own arm around Gokudera, fitting his forearm along the smooth sweep of the other's spine.

Fingers press in against his shoulder, lips brush against the top of his head. "I love you," Gokudera says, as naturally as if it has always been this easy to win those words from him. "I'm glad you were an idiot."

Yamamoto hums against Gokudera's skin. "I love you," he says, just that, because that's really all that he's ever needed to say, and he opens his eyes, relinquishes the warmth of Gokudera's skin under his lips so he can tip his head back and watch Gokudera's smile spread soft over his mouth to match the warmth that is always in his eyes, now.

Gokudera's smile is always worth seeing.


End file.
